Laat Dovahkiin
by papillonpan
Summary: When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world. When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped. When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles. When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls. When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding the World-Eater wakes and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn - this is her story.
1. The Brink

Qahnaarin is the word vanquisher in dragon tongue. I chose this as my dragonborn's name because any other fantasy related name sounded ridiculous or too similar to one already in game or sounded like I was trying too hard. Can't have that now, can we?

Please note: This is probably crap. I hope you enjoy it.

 **Disclaimer:** If you recognize it - I don't own it. For this first chapter, despite the fact that he's not in it, I wanted to give a special mention to a particular 'follower' I will be using. Qahnaarin has three people that will be in almost every chapter, those three are Jenassa, Lydia, and Inigo. Jenassa and Lydia are in game characters and obviously belong to Bethesda. Inigo the Brave, however, is a mod follower created by Smartbluecat. Most people know who Inigo is, for those that don't, what the hell is wrong with you? Go download him right now. All of Inigo's credit / personality / image / etc. all go to Smartbluecat. The only thing I can take credit for is any dialogue I add in, which will be a lot. But you'll see some of his dialogue that he already comes with in here as well, which again is credited to SBC. Seriously, do yourself a favor and go download Inigo if you haven't already. He's literally the best.

 **LAAT DOVAHKIIN**

 _Chapter One_

There was a fleeting moment in every warrior's life when they were positive they were going to die. That for, whatever reason, their time had come to an end where they bid their life as they knew it goodbye and headed to wherever it was they were supposed to go. For Qahnaarin, that was Sovngarde. Qahnaarin was destined for Sovngarde without doubt, at least in her own mind. When she took her last breath, and could fight no more she was certain she'd be greeted in Shor's Hall with open arms from her fallen kinsmen.

Her current predicament, however, was unsettling. At least it was to Qahnaarin. For one thing, she felt like she had certainly died. However, she also felt like she was nowhere near Sovngarde. The Nord could hear a muffled voice but her vision was cloudy, to the point where she could only make out shadows. She could taste and feel ash upon her tongue as well as sharp pain in her side. Qahnaarin didn't know what awaited her in Sovngarde, but this didn't seem like the tales she had heard.

"Qahnaarin?"

She heard her name being called by someone who sounded so familiar. Yet, the girl couldn't place the name for the life of her. Qahnaarin did notice the inflection of the voice - concerned. For her, perhaps? She couldn't tell. If she could just clear her vision and retain her bearing, perhaps this would make more sense.

Time passed Qahnaarin, and she found herself unable to keep up with it. It seemed like she lingered in abyss for what felt like an eternity. Perhaps she was merely clinging to life and awaiting death where she would then find herself in Sovngarde. If that were the case, Qahnaarin urgently wished for death to take her and be done with it, for there was no purpose clinging to life in such a pathetic way.

"You're going to live, Qahnaarin. You may not paint this ground with the last of your blood just yet."

That voice was there again. A touch clearer and definitely familiar to the Nord. The voice was soothing, almost comforting, and definitely laced with worry. She wished to respond but she could only feel the dryness of her mouth and couldn't get her body to respond to her. It was a maddening situation.

Time passed as Qahnaarin slipped in and out of unconsciousness. How much, she still couldn't tell. It could have been moments or it could have been years. For her, it felt like an eternity until finally, finally, she could open her eyes as the underside of a leather tent greeted her once her vision was clear enough. Qahnaarin breathed as deep as she could for a moment, feeling her lungs expand and contract. On the exhale, however, a small strangled sound came from her throat, which felt like it had been set on fire. That was when she noticed movement in her peripheral.

A Dark Elf, a Dunmer woman to be exact, leaned over Qahnaarin. She took at the woman's face - long brown hair, sharp dark eyes, and gold war paint that decorated her sharp cheekbones and forehead. Qahnaarin knew this woman.

"Jenassa?" she croaked out, her throat protesting in a way that made the Nord feel like it was going to split and crack like a dry river bed.

"Still with the living, are you?" Jenassa asked, voice strong but quiet in the small tent. "Here, drink some water." Jenassa placed a hand on the back of Qahnaarin's head and helped to lift her up as she brought a waterskin to the Nord's mouth. Qahnaarin grunted with effort but managed to drink from the water skin, the water within a cool relief to her. Jenassa moved the waterskin aside and removed her hand from the white blonde tresses of Qahnaarin's head and asked, "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm half dead. Where are we? What happened?"

At this, Jenassa's features hardened into a look of anger and contempt. "You were supposed to meet me in Whiterun after your job with Ingmar was complete. That was three weeks ago."

"Three weeks!?" Qahnaarin gasped, twisting to look at the Dark Elf and regretting it immediately. A sharp pain spread over her side and through her ribcage, causing her to wince and grimace at the pain. Jenassa laid a hand on her shoulder to help her lie flat against the bed roll.

"Don't move around so quickly or you'll aggravate your wounds," Jenassa started. "When you didn't show I went looking for you. I found you just off the road near Helgen, that's where we are now. Your caravan had clearly been ambushed and I thought for sure you were dead my friend."

"I can't remember what happened," Qahnaarin admitted quietly, eyebrows furrowing as she thought back on it. Ingmar, a rather peculiar Nord with an odd personality, had sought Qahnaarin out; sent for her specifically even in order to send the girl on a quest of sorts. Ingmar's quest didn't last long, in fact, it was relatively simple. Find his business partner, out him for betraying Ingmar, take down his base of operations, and report back to Ingmar. Everything went without a hitch. "I don't think I missed anything with the partner."

Jenassa's face had not changed and it was worrying the Nord. "You hardly ever miss anything," the Dunmer told her.

"So then what? What do you know?"

"I think if you returned to Ingmar he'd be shell shocked to see you alive."

Qahnaarin thought of this, anger swirling in her stomach. "You think Ingmar set this up?"

"Ingmar is not a man that likes loose ends. Not to mention - you don't have to pay a dead mercenary," Jenassa pointed out.

Qahnaarin groaned and closed her eyes. She never fully trusted an employee, as a general rule of thumb, but it was rare for one to pull one over on the Nord. She'd been at this along time, her wit and patience being the two things that have kept her alive for so long. She was exclusive with whom she placed her trust in, Jenassa being one of the few. After a few moments to collect herself, Qahnaarin swallowed thickly and took another drink from the waterskin.

"I think Ingmar will find himself robbed of every septim he owns, as well as an arrow through the eye for my trouble," Qahnaarin explained quietly. "When the time is right. For now, the coward may life. First I need to find who he hired to kill me."

At this, Jenassa cracked a smirk and sat back, crossing her arms as she looked at Qahnaarin thoughtfully. "Come now, the assassin was hired for a job. It's not their fault."

Qahnaarin knew Jenassa was only teasing. Still, as the pain in her abdomen flared through her again she couldn't help but be annoyed. "For taking the job? Absolutely. I'd be more than happy to be bygones be bygones."

"However?" Jenassa prompted.

"The milk drinker didn't do their job very well, did they? I'm still alive, and in a considerable amount of pain. They are sloppy and didn't even check to see if I was dead," Qahnaarin started. "Taking a job I can forgive. Butchering said job at my own expense, however, is not excusable. I will show them the proper way to kill."

Jenassa didn't argue, but rather looked contemplative at the Nord's words. For all that the pair had been through, Qahnaarin knew the Dunmer woman very well, and even though she knew Jenassa agreed with her, she also knew there was something still plaguing the Dark Elf's mind about the incident.

"It wasn't just sloppy work," she started. "Your wound, though severe, seemed almost intentionally to miss your vital organs. However, the severity seemed intentional. Like they wanted you out of commission...not dead. You've been on the brink of death for three weeks." Jenassa sat forward then, leaning down to check on the wound herself.

This did puzzle Qahnaarin and her friend had a point. Qahnaarin didn't have the energy to sit up to inspect the wound herself, but she could feel the bandaging Jenassa had given to her and could feel the length and depth of the wound. "Something else to figure out, then. I doubt Ingmar wanted me left alive. Perhaps my supposed assassin had an ulterior motive."

Jenassa stood then to leave Qahnaarin to her thoughts, promising to return with something to cook them for supper. "Think you can handle a wolf or two if they come looking?"

"I can probably hold my own for all of two seconds," Qahnaarin grinned. "Thank you for finding me, Jenassa." The Dunmer stared at Qahnaarin for a moment, tilting her head in response.

"I could hardly leave my friend of so many years to die. There are still many blank canvases across Tamriel that need to be painted red," The Dunmer responded thoughtfully. Qahnaarin smiled fondly at her friend as Jenassa turned, hand already on the hilt of one of her swords as she ducked out of the tent and stepped out of sight.

Qahnaarin let her eyes turn to top of the tent once more, thinking over at Jenassa had told her. If her 'assassin' had wanted her alive, it didn't make much sense, but Jenassa had a point about her wounds. She placed her elbows on the bed roll beneath her, lifting herself up as much as her pain would allow her so she could look down at herself. Jenassa had wrapped a bandage pretty tight over Qahnaarin's torso, a bit of blood still spotting on the side where the Nord assumed the wound was. She reached down and gently prodded at the wound with her fingers, careful not to press too hard, but feeling where the indentation was of where the wound was depeest.

It had definitely pierced deep enough to mortally wound her, but perhaps not bad enough to ensure death. It was almost placed perfectly between her last two ribs, the pain spreading out over her abdomen. She vaguely wondered what she had been wounded with, but her memory seemed to be coming up short on her. The last thing she could remember was passing Helgen and heading down the path towards Riverwood and Whiterun before everything went black. She looked around her, eyes scanning for her things only to come up empty. Qahnaarin frowned, wondering where her gear had went, and thought perhaps Jenassa had left it outside. The only thing in the tent with her was a lamp, a few books that Jenassa had probably been reading to pass the time, the Dunmer's bed roll, and a used hunting bow with a poorly made quiver, a handful of iron arrows peeking out of the top.

The Nord eyed the odd object, head tilting to the side in confusion. That was not Jenassa's weapon. The Dunmer used two identical scimitars, each with their own enchantment she placed on them. One being Soulrender, which not only absorbed the magic people harnessed within them, but also helped to protect her from spell casters. The other was Bloodscythe, which was made solely for the purpose of damaging through thick armor and killing strikes. Aside from the occasional dagger, Qahnaarin had never seen the Dark Elf use any other weapons, and as far as she knew, Jenassa would couldn't use a bow to save her life.

Letting out a huff of air, Qahnaarin laid back down, deciding it best to lay as still as possible until Jenassa got back with dinner. She closed her eyes and listened to her surroundings. She could smell the trees, woody and heavy in its scent. She could hear birds chirping and small animals rushing to and fro in the bushes and scurrying up the thick tree trunks. The air in the tent was cool but not unbearably so, Helgen being far enough South that it didn't feel like winter all the time. Not that being cold was any sort of bother to Qahnaarin. As a Nord, she grew up in Skyrim's harsh coldness, naturally becoming quite indifferent to it for the most part. Still, she was grateful for the slight warmth in the air, as she was not well dressed enough to ward off any serious chill and rattling probably wouldn't do her wounds any good.

It was after that thought that she heard it. A quick and sharp snap of a twig. Her eyes shot open, body tensing at the sound. On the one hand, it was probably Jenassa. On the other, it could also very well be a large animal or even another person. For this area, Qahnaarin would bet it was a bandit. She sat up as quickly as she could, wincing a bit at the pain but pushing through it, hands immediately reaching out to wrap around the bow and grab the quiver beside it. She brought the quiver to her and placed three arrows in her lap, grabbing only one and setting it against the bow, nocking it back. With most of her strength gone, Qahnaarin wasn't able to pull the bow string all the way back, but even only halfway pulled it would do a considerable amount of damage considering it would be shot at close range.

As an archer, Qahnaarin typically liked to be further away when she shot, but being so weak the close range might actually work to her advantage. She took in a quick breath and steadied her arm as the footsteps drew closer, their shadow outlining the side of the tent as they came around front. The flap to the tent was pulled aside and Jenassa stepped through, stopping short at seeing an arrow pointed directly towards her face. Qahnaarin released her breath as she quickly placed the arrow back in her lap, eyeing the Dunmer who had an amused expression onto her face.

"That was quick," Qahnaarin muttered.

"Prepared for a fight, are we?" she asked with a smirk, placing the two rabbits she had caught down just outside the tent. Qahnaarin shrugged and placed the arrows back into their quiver, the bow being set down next to her.

"Well, I wasn't expecting you back so quickly. Figured I was about to be killed and robbed by a bandit," she explained. She looked at the rabbits Jenassa placed down, tilting her head a bit. "That looks appetizing."

"Combine them with some dumplings and potatoes, it'll make a good stew. You complaining?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she grabbed for her knife.

"Me? I would never," Qahnaarin teased. Jenassa shook her head at the Nord and stepped just outside, placing the rabbits to the side and going to work on skinning them. Qahnaarin watched, uninterested, the question forming on her lips without really thinking about it. "Jenassa, where is my stuff?" she asked. The Dunmer stopped and tensed a little, turning to look at Qahnaarin over her shoulder with a small frown on her face. Qahnaarin did not like that body language. "What? What is it?"

"When I found you...your caravan had been ransacked," the Dark Elf started. She turned back to the rabbits, her long hair that was pulled into a high pony falling over her shoulder as she got back to work. "The only thing you had near you when I arrived were the clothes on your back," she finished resolutely.

There was a sinking feeling in Qahnaarin's gut before the anger set in. She scowled and slumped back down, refraining from banging her fist into the ground in annoyance. "My weapons, my armor, and my possession…" she trailed off.

"They're gone my friend. I'm sorry," Jenassa told her quietly. "I was able to take that bow and the arrows, as well as some fur armor off of a dead bandit not far from here. Other than that…" she trailed off, shaking her head.

"I have nothing," Qahnaarin finished. Qahnaarin had been a mercenary for a long time, and over that time she had gained a considerable amount of possessions and septims. Not only that, but she purchased her first ebony bow not too long ago, as well as some really nice armor. Her money, clothes, jewelry, and books had all been in that caravan as well. Qahnaarin was silent as Jenassa worked, angry at her situation. She could feel the heat crawling up her neck and into her face, anger curling in her stomach. "Remember when I said Ingmar was going to get an arrow to the eye for my trouble?" she asked, not waiting for a response. "I've decided that little toad will suffer before I put him out of his misery," she finished bitterly. She heard Jenassa sigh and heard her stand up, coming back fully inside the tent to lean over Qahnaarin.

"I have no doubt Ingmar will suffer greatly before his demise - as he should. I will help you, Qahnaarin."

"I don't need help to kill a man," Qahnaarin started, but Jenassa was already shaking her head.

Jenassa pushed a few strands of the Nord's hair back away from her face, settling the top of the bed roll over her to make sure she kept warm. "Not with Ingmar. You have nothing, and I know that does not sit well with you. Whatever you need to either get your stuff back or perhaps start anew...I will help you."

Qahnaarin looked at her friend with fondness, sighing as she tried to let it go for the moment. "I have no idea how long it will take me to accumulate back what I've lost, and you're supposed to head back to Morrowind in a few months. I can't ask that of you."

Jenassa sat back on her heels with a blank expression on her face, eyes cast downwards at the Nord's words. "I am not going back to Morrowind."

Qahnaarin's eyebrows furrowed at this, thoughts swarming around her head at Jenassa's words. "What? What do you mean you're not going back to Morrowind? That's ridiculous," she started. Jenassa only came to Skyrim to fulfill a promise, one that she fulfilled some time ago. There was really nothing holding her to Skyrim, and she had a sister and niece in Morrowind waiting for her return. "You have to go," she finished, finding anything else completely absurd.

"There's nothing...no one to go home to, Qahnaarin." Jenassa was quiet for a moment and Qahnaarin was unsure of what to say, not really sure what Jenassa meant by that. She sat back up, concerned for her friend now as she placed a hand on her shoulder.

"What is it?" Qahnaarin asked softly, urging her friend to speak. Jenassa was quiet for a few moments more as she seemed to debate on how to best say whatever it was she needed to. After letting out a short breath, Qahnaarin had a feeling her friend just felt it best to say it. That was always how it worked between the two of them - no sugar coating and no beating around the bush.

"My sister was taken by the Thalmor...as was my niece. They're...they're gone," Jenassa's voice was quiet but resolute, but Qahnaarin could hear the pain in her voice. Without saying anything the Nord pulled her friend into an embrace, careful not to lean too far forward and aggravate her wounds, but enough to hold her friend close. Jenassa was still for a moment before wrapping her arms around Qahnaarin, letting out a breath of air.

"I'm sorry," Qahnaarin said softly. "I know what it means to lose people to the Thalmor...I'm so sorry Jenassa." She pulled back from her friend minimally, brushing the hair back from her face. "What can I do?" she asked, eyebrows furrowing. Jenassa's face was stoic but Qahnaarin could see the pain in her eyes.

"Allow me to travel with you, as we have in the past. You're the only family I have left, and as it stands, I don't have anywhere else to be," the Dunmer requested, Qahnaarin nodding in agreement before she had even finished her sentence.

"Of course. You're always welcome with me."

At this, Jenassa offered a smile and pulled back from the Nord, turning towards the rabbits to finish skinning and cutting them up for the stew. Qahnaarin watched her work, a small frown pulling at her lips as she thought about Jenassa's family. To be taken by the Thalmor was not something that was new, especially in Skyrim. Ever since the treaty had been signed between the Dominion and the Empire, the Thalmor were taking citizens left and right, all under the guise of being Talos worshippers. A very familiar hatred curled in Qahnaarin's stomach at the thought of the Thalmor. Elves in general she had no issue with, but the races that made up the Dominion and the Altmer involved could all burn in Oblivion for all she cared.

"Jenassa…" Qahnaarin started, waiting until her friend's attention was on her. "How long do you think before I'm back on my feet?" she asked. Jenassa looked thoughtful at the inquiry, head tilting to the side as she thought about it.

"Normally I would say you have at least another month before you're back to full strength…"

"However…" Qahnaarin prompted, knowing she had more to say.

Jenassa smiled in amusement and shook her head before replying, "Knowing you, you'll probably try to be up on your feet in two weeks." Qahnaarin grinned and sat up a bit, placing a hand just behind her to brace herself so she wouldn't get hurt.

"Well then," she started. "What are we waiting for? Dragons to come back to Tamriel? Let's get me up and moving."

Jenassa snorted at her friend and shook her head once more, placing the finished rabbits near the fire pit and walking back to Qahnaarin, hands finding their way onto her hips. "How, pray tell, do you expect to get up and moving? You can barely move, let alone stand."

"I need one of those health vials…" Qahnaarin muttered. At this, Jenassa's eyebrows lifted in surprise, lips pursing as she followed the Nord's train of thought.

"You would need an alchemist for one of those. They're not cheap, you know."

"A merchant has to have one," Qahnaarin argued. "I have a few contacts...perhaps Kieron can find someone who could either loan me the coin or find me an alchemist who owes him a favor."

Jenassa was already shaking her head at Qahnaarin's suggestion. "No, Kieron is still away on a quest for the Companions. His return is not expected for at least another month, otherwise I would have gone to him already." Qahnaarin frowned at this and crossed her arms, huffing a little in annoyance. "You are impatient," Jenassa told her, ignoring the scowl Qahnaarin sent her way. "So impatient that you're willing to turn to magic to help you."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with magic…" Qahnaarin defended. It wasn't her go to solution to a problem but, hey, if it worked then who was she to complain? She wasn't a magic user herself, true masters being hard to find and untrusting of anyone with a lesser ability, but she wasn't one to turn her nose to it just because she didn't fully understand it. "Look, the way I see it is I can sit here with nothing to my name for a month and pray I don't die from either attack or sickness. Or we can look for an alternative route. What say you?"

Jenassa let out a sigh as if the whole thing was just a huge burden to her. Qahnaarin knew the elf was teasing but she still pouted up at her, waiting for an answer. "I do get rather bored sitting still for too long," the Elf relented, a small smirk pulling at her lips. Qahnaarin grinned at her friend.

"As do I. Now...let's see if we can get me standing upright. We've got work to do."


	2. Rainfall

UHM. Okay, so this is kind of a slow chapter, but definitely important. It sets up a few things for later on down the road, so bear with me. Next chapter is where the action starts! I feel like there was something I wanted to mention, but for the life of me, I can't remember what it is. So there's that.

This still probably sucks. Enjoy.

Thank you to my kind reviewer! I appreciate your face. (:

 **Disclaimer:** If you recognize it, I don't own it.

* * *

 **Laat Dovahkiin  
** _Chapter Two_

Rainfall wasn't new to Qahnaarin or anyone who spent time in Skyrim. In fact, two things were almost certain – at some point or another you were either going to be cold or drenched. The second being that sometimes you were going to be cold _and_ drenched. The sky was heavy and dark, so much so that Qahnaarin almost thought it was nightfall when she awoke from her slumber. She had been sleeping a lot lately due to her injury and the need for her body to heal itself, her and Jenassa agreed that she could push herself a little but when her body needed to sleep – she didn't fight it. The Nord was making progress, however, and that was all that mattered to her. It had been almost two weeks since Qahnaarin came back from the brink of death, and with the passing of time her will to get up and moving again had only gotten stronger.

On the one hand, she still very much wanted to confront Ingmar. Not only did he try to have her murdered, but his plan had gotten her robbed of every possession she owned. Bright grey irises settled lazily on the old bow that was laying against the edge of the tent, a frown pulling at the corner of Qahnaarin's lips at the object. Even the bow she had as a child had been in better shape than this particular piece of garbage. However, a weapon was a weapon. Not that the few iron arrows she possessed would do her much good against anything other than an animal. On the other hand, she really wanted to be able to get up and begin anew, perhaps even more so than putting an arrow through Ingmar's skull.

Frustration swept through the Nord once more. More than her gold, more than her jewelry, more than even her armor she was most upset about the loss of her weapon. Qahnaarin couldn't help but feel vulnerable without it. The only thing that calmed her fury was remembering what her father used to tell her she was little and still learning how to use a bow – a bow is only as good as the archer wielding it. This was true, as Qahnaarin knew that even with such a pathetic bow she was still one of the best archers in Skyrim.

The rain fell hard against the tent, causing it to sway a little and pull Qahnaarin from her thoughts. She breathed the scent of the wet ground and trees around her, the water pooling outside in puddles creating its own scent as well. It felt good to be able to use her senses again. Drifting in that abyss had been unsettling to the Nord, and not somewhere she ever wanted to be again. If she wasn't alive, she wanted to be dead and in Sovngarde. The fire outside had long since been put out by the rain, Qahnaarin only having her bed roll and furs to keep her warm which she settled down deeper into. On top of having a wound, it wouldn't do her any good to catch illness from the weather. She reached up and pushed her hair away from her face so she could keep an eye on the front of the tent, waiting for Jenassa.

The Dunmer had left some time ago to go hunting, though Qahnaarin had a feeling the elf had holed herself up somewhere to weather the brunt of the storm before she returned. This gave Qahnaarin a lot of time to think. She felt anger and sadness for Jenassa and the loss of her kin, and plenty of anger for the Thalmor. After her parents had been taken the only person Qahnaarin had left was her brother Kieron, but he had obligations to the Companions and so for the most part she had been alone. Until she met Jenassa. A lot of people didn't like Jenassa – because she was Dunmer or because of her dark natured personality Qahnaarin wasn't sure, but perhaps that was why she felt so drawn to the elf; Jenassa was always alone, too.

The pair had gone on quite a few adventures together, Jenassa saving Qahnaarin's life on more than one occasion and Qahnaarin returning the favor a handful of times. Jenassa was bonded to her by the blood they've spilt and the blood they've shed together and if she was going to travel Skyrim – Qahnaarin wouldn't want anyone else by her side if she had to choose. The blonde only wished she could figure out how to help her friend in her time of need. The Thalmor seemed to be untouchable while they broke homes and tore families apart left and right. Perhaps the most troubling thought was that the Empire continued to let this happen thanks to the White-Gold Concordat.

Qahnaarin cut that thought off before it went any further. Rationally she understood why the Empire agreed to the truce – she understood that the Empire couldn't ever come out from underneath the Thalmor's hold while still being so weak from the war. The Empire needed to regain its strength and footing before going to war with them again, so in the mean time the Empire agreed to their terms. Still, the sacrifice seemed great. It was one thing to ban the worship of Talos, it was another to take people away in the middle of the night and make them disappear.

Deep in her thoughts, Qahnaarin hadn't noticed the rain letting up nor the sound of footprints coming closer. When Jenassa stepped into the tent and pulled her hood down, Qahnaarin nearly jumped out of her skin, letting a gasp tear from her throat. Jenassa's hair was wet and her clothes were drenched, but she held an amused expression on her face as she took in Qahnaarin's state. The blonde's heart was still beating erratically inside her chest as she scowled at her friend, bottom lip jutting out into a mock pout.

"Not paying attention, are we?" Jenassa asked. Qahnaarin decided not to dignify that with a response. The elf snorted at her in amusement before motioning towards the outside of the tent. "Caught a buck. It should keep us fed for a while."

"Jenassa," Qahnaarin started, her curiosity getting the better of her. "What's been going on with the stormcloaks? Has Ulfric come to his senses yet?"

Jenassa removed the ranger hood from around herself, setting it to the side so it could dry and began to take her boots off, eyeing Qahnaarin for her question. "No. If anything, he and his rebels are getting worse," she started. After taking her boots off and sitting down on her bed roll, she gave Qahnaarin a look that the Nord couldn't quite decipher. "Do not take this the wrong way, my friend…but…I've always wondered how you could be so ready to condemn Ulfric. The Stormcloaks want the Thalmor out of Skyrim…I would have thought with the Thalmor taking your parents you would readily agree with them. Now with my sister and niece being gone…I wonder now even more so."

Qahnaarin could hear the anger and hurt in her voice, and the Dunmer was well within her right to feel that way. They hadn't ever really discussed this topic before, mostly because Jenassa felt that the politics within Skyrim didn't concern her. Or perhaps it was more along the lines of Jenassa felt like she shouldn't have an input either way, as she wasn't a native to Skyrim. Qahnaarin could only guess, but it was a fair question either way. She thought about the way she should answer for a while, deciding it best to just give Jenassa the truth and the let the elf sort it out for herself. That's how they always worked.

"I hate the Thalmor, Jenassa…with everything that I am," she started. "For everything they've done, not just to me but to all of the people of Tamriel. Skyrim is my home, and for the Thalmor to come here and…well…believe me, I want them gone. Ulfric certainly has that part right." Qahnaarin sat up a little in her bed roll, stretching enough to give herself some relief but not enough to pull at her wound as she thought of the words she needed to continue. "He's wrong to do this. To put Skyrim through this while we're already trying to deal with the Thalmor, now we're also fighting with the Empire. The Empire isn't perfect, but if we're going to beat the Thalmor we must stand together. Skyrim has no chance of doing it alone and I don't understand why Ulfric or the rest of the Stormcloaks can't see that. Ulfric claims that he wants Skyrim to be free, but without the Empire…the Dominion will enslave us all." Qahnaarin watched as Jenassa looked away from her, pondering the Nord's words but choosing not to respond now.

Qahnaarin gingerly stood up, keeping most of her weight on her left leg to ease the pressure on her right side. She pulled her furs up with her and wrapped them around herself, wanting to stay warm but wanting to stretch her legs out as well. "For the record…" she started, gaining Jenassa's attention once more. "I don't condemn Ulfric because he wants to rid Skyrim of the Thalmor. I condemn Ulfric because he is greedy and power hungry. All he cares about is becoming High King. The only person Ulfric cares about is Ulfric…not his kin and certainly not his stormcloaks."

"Have you met the man?" Jenassa asked her then, cocking her head to the side.

"Once. Kieron's had more dealings with him than I have. I'm telling you Jenassa, that man is not…good," Qahnaarin muttered the last bit, frowning at her choice of words. It didn't quite fit, but she also couldn't quite figure out how to say what she meant. It was more of a feeling than anything else. Not to mention, Qahnaarin was an adventurer and mercenary, living such a life she had to take lives quite often. Did that make someone bad? She didn't think so. However, there was something about Ulfric that just didn't settle right with her. The Dunmer looked at her friend for a long moment before letting her head fall as if in agreement, or perhaps understanding. Qahnaarin couldn't be sure.

"Fair enough. I trust your judgement."

The two sat in silence for a while, Qahnaarin watching as the Dunmer tried her best to dry off. She wasn't shivering but being wet couldn't be very good for her.

"You're not going to get sick, are you?" the Nord asked her, settling back down into her own furs. Jenassa looked at her like she had grown an extra head. "What? I can't worry?"

"I do not get sick," Jenassa murmured, eyebrows furrowing at Qahnaarin's strange choice of words.

"Well…" she trailed off, unable to hide the smile on her face any longer. As soon as Jenassa caught on she rolled her eyes and turned away from the Nord, intent on ignoring her. "There was that one time…"

"An event that we both agreed not to speak of after the fact," Jenassa finally snipped over her shoulder. Qahnaarin couldn't help but chuckle at her friend's expense. To be fair, Qahnaarin has made a complete fool of herself from time to time, a lot of those moments happening in front of the elf. Jenassa was far more graceful than Qahnaarin was, so when her few and far between mishaps did happen, she couldn't help but find some comfort in it. Jenassa, however, was not amused. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

This only made Qahnaarin laugh harder, turning away from Jenassa and hiding her face in her furs, trying to stifle the laughter spilling from her lips. "Ow, ow, ow," she wheezed out, gripping her side where her injury was at. Laughing was painful at the moment.

"Serves you right," Jenassa mumbled. Though the words were terse, Jenassa's voice still held amusement in it. She couldn't hide it very well, especially since she knew the teasing was in good fun. Mostly. "The rain is letting up," Jenassa mentioned after the Nord had settled down. Qahnaarin listened outside, and sure enough the rain had let up quite a bit. Jenassa moved to get up, reaching for her blade. "I should skin the deer before it gets too dark," she said. Qahnaarin, however, sat up and stopped her.

"You've been doing the brunt of the physical work lately," she started. She held her hand out for the knife. "Let me," she offered. Jenassa tilted her head to the side.

"That's not necessary. You should rest."

"I've been resting. I don't like feeling useless."

Jenassa stared at her for a moment before sighing and relenting, handing off the knife and laying back down as Qahnaarin made a triumphant noise and got up carefully, moving outside where the downpour had turned into a soft drizzle. Qahnaarin looked around her, breathing in the scent of the wet earth, enjoying how deeply green everything looked after it rained. Snow would begin to fall soon, but for now most of the snow had stayed further up on the hills and mountains. Now that they had been here for a while and Qahnaarin was able to stand up and move around, she had begun to recognize the area. They really weren't far from Helgen, and only a bit to the north was Riverwood. If the sky was clear, and she faced to the north she could even see the outline of Bleakfalls Barrow, ancient Nord ruins tucked away into the mountainside.

"You going to skin the deer or are you going to stand around?" Jenassa asked her. Qahnaarin shot her a look over her shoulder.

"Hey. I'm enjoying the freedom of movement, thank you very much."

Jenassa rolled her eyes and stood, stepping out of the tent and taking a look around as well. "I'm only teasing you, friend."

Qahnaarin nodded and bent down, reaching up to pull her white blonde hair back into a low hanging pony, out of her face and out of the way. "Yes, I know," she told Jenassa, smirking up at her friend before turning to the task at hand. Skinning an animal was tedious work, not the most fun thing to do, but it was much better than just lying in a tent all day. It felt good to move and stretch her muscles, even if she was still tender and had to limit herself.

"Your wound looks good," Jenassa mentioned. "Think you might actually be healing quicker than we originally planned."

"Good enough to take a walk?" Qahnaarin asked, pausing momentarily to look up at the Dunmer. Jenassa raised an eyebrow, curious. "I'm healing nicely, but I'd heal nicer with a potion. How about we head to Helgen tomorrow?"

"Helgen may not be that far, but it's farther than you think. Are you sure you're up for that kind of walk?"

Qahnaarin shrugged, returning to her work and thinking on it for a moment before answering, "Might as well try. I'm tired of being in one spot. It doesn't sit well with me." Jenassa sighed a little and moved towards the campfire, leaning down to start setting it back up now that the rain had all but stopped. They would need dry wood and kindle to get it going again, but she could get that easily enough.

"You're very impatient," Jenassa mumbled, knowing Qahnaarin could still hear her.

"Yes, but you already know this."

Jenassa rolled her eyes and discarded the old wet firewood, wiping her hands off. "Such a child," she said airily, as if it were simply a matter of fact. Qahnaarin made a face and pointed the now bloody knife at her.

"You're enjoying my torment, aren't you?" she asked flatly. Jenassa shrugged, not confirming or denying, but instead heading off towards the wood.

"I'm going to collect more firewood," she called over her shoulder. Qahnaarin made another face and put her hands on her hip.

"Hey! I was talking to you!" she called out. Jenassa ventured further into the woods, beginning to hum along as she went. Qahnaarin narrowed her eyes and squatted back down, muttering under her breath about the unfairness of elves. She could make a trip to Helgen, no problem. If not, Jenassa could carry her to Helgen.

That would teach the elf to mock Qahnaarin. Or so she'd like to think, anyways.


End file.
